Keeping Guard
by Hallie Black
Summary: Lord Voldemort’s army is attacking left and right, but only few are brave enough to stand up to him. These few wizards, however, are ready to do anything for their cause. But are they ready for love?


DISCLAIMER: I am not JKR and thus do not own any of the following characters or settings.

"Another attack," announced a tall, bearded man, looking grimly at the dozen-or-so people crowding the small, circular room. "Third one this week."

A short, dark-haired man wearing a brightly coloured hat spoke up. "We've got to do something, Dumbledore. Three attacks in less than a week! Infiltrating the Ministry has not proved to be as useful as we thought, has it?"

"At least we're tryin' to do something, Fenwick, other than buy stupid hats," growled a scarred, angry-looking man.

Benji Fenwick's ears glowed a dark shade of red, as they always did whenever someone insulted his hat. "If you must know, Moody, this very–"

Albus Dumbledore cleared his throat, interrupting the two. "What Alastor was trying to say, Benji, was that this time even the Ministry's top Aurors couldn't have known what the Death Eaters' plan was–"

"No, no," interrupted Moody, "I really meant to say that I'm sure that if our precious volunteers for the order spent less time shopping and more time actually trying to figure out the enemy's next move, we'd be a lot better off indeed." 

Alastor Moody, old friend of Dumbledore's and Head of the Auror Department of the Ministry, was the only wizard present who could cut off the old man, even if this time his interruption was met by a rather stern look from Albus. "Alastor," he warned.

"What?" asked Moody, feigning an innocent look.

"I believe Mr. Fenwick's wardrobe is hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. Wouldn't you agree?"

Moody shut up, but he didn't refrain from throwing angry looks at the younger man.

"But Benji's right," said a young woman, a determined look on her face. "Big fat help we are… How many attacks have we stopped, Professor? How many times have we saved the Dark Lord's targets? Two, maybe three times?"

Benji was rather surprised (and pleased, too) to hear her defend his cause with such interest. Even if he didn't know her very well, Benji had always held the fiery brunette in great consideration.

"I understand, Miss Jones, but as of right now, we are not nearly as much of a threat as we'd like to be. Lord Voldemort's army counts over three hundred Death Eaters — three hundred very apt wizards — whereas the Order of the Phoenix's only members are the ones sitting in this very room," answered Dumbledore sadly.

There was a general scraping of chairs as everyone turned around in his seat to size up the number of his companions, clearly hoping to scout more than he'd remembered. A messy-haired young man and the dark-haired wizard sitting behind him exchanged glances, while the tall woman who had spoken before held her ground. "Yes, I know that, but still–"

"We are doing all we can, Hestia," said Dumbledore gently. Hestia's sister had been killed by Death Eaters, and Hestia had never forgiven herself for not having been able to save her. "But please, if you or Mr. Fenwick _do_ have any idea, I would be more than delighted to hear it."

Moody coughed loudly at this, but was silenced by yet another annoyed look from the Headmaster.

Hestia sat back down. "No."

The messy-haired wizard spoke up. "Well, then, what happened this time?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm glad you asked, Mr. Potter. It's unbelievable how easy it is to be sidetracked from the most unpleasant tasks."

Silence followed this brief speech, as everyone waited for the man to continue.

"The Death Eaters attacked a family in Hogsmeade," said Dumbledore slowly.

There was an uproar at these words.

"Hogsmeade!" asked James Potter. "They attacked someone in Hogsmeade?"

Sirius Black, the dark-haired wizard sitting behind James, got up, knocking his chair to the floor. "You've got to be joking, Professor! If Voldemort's not afraid of attacking at Hogsmeade, it means he's pretty darn sure of himself right now… and–and Hogwarts could be next! I thought we'd placed the same protection around the school _and_ the village!"

"We had, Mr. Black, but it seems Voldemort has found a way around our spells. It is needless to say that protection will have to be intensified."

A red-haired woman looked at the professor. "But those charms… I spent months researching them… How could he have found out about them, Professor? No one could have known–"

"Alas, Miss Evans, you have touched a most troubling subject. It is obvious that Voldemort is getting his information from someone …" Dumbledore let this sentence hang in the air.

"A spy, you mean?" asked Benji, voicing what everyone else was thinking but nobody wanted to believe.

Dumbledore stayed quiet a few moments before replying, "That is my thesis, yes, Mr. Fenwick."

A deathly silence followed this statement, as everyone took a quick glance around his fellow members, clearly hoping to spot the spy and burn him at the stake at the very moment. Contrary to everyone's hopes, no one got up yelling 'It's me, I'm the spy, I swear I'll never do it again!", so, after a few more moments of silence, everyone's gaze turned back to Dumbledore.

"I would like two volunteers," said the Headmaster, suddenly sounding much more businesslike. "The Obliviators called upon the scene of the crime" Dumbledore nodded towards two wizards in the back of the room "luckily included Gideon and Fabian, who have informed us that they have found some rather interesting evidence indeed."

The younger of the two, Fabian, cleared his throat. "Upon analysing a suspicious powder that we found in the house–"

"–or at least what was left of it–" interrupted his brother.

"–we discovered traces of lorrane–"

"–which is a very dangerous potion ingredient, practically impossible to obtain–"

"–and even more impossible to manage. This means that whoever used it has to be either the Dark Lord himself–"

"–which we all know is not the case–"

"–or someone very well-connected and very very good at Potions."

The two looked at the rest of their companions, waiting for them to put two and two together.

Sirius Black spoke up, frowning. "Do you guys _always_ talk like that? 'Cause it's messing up my brain a bit."

Everyone chuckled at this, while the two glared at him. James grinned. "Padfoot, if someone's not talking about sex or alcohol, then it's always messing your brain. Get used to it."

Some more laughter till Dumbledore, whose light blue eyes were still twinkling, cleared his throat. "Well? Any thoughts?"

"I'm thinking Snape," said Sirius, shrugging, completely unaware of the glares he was getting from the sallow-skinned man two seats away.

"We're on the same side, you dolt," said Severus, still glaring at him. "And unless I'm much mistaken, we were all in this very room when the attack took place."

"Yeah," said Sirius, his tone of voice much colder, "but I still think the description fits you perfectly. Oh, wait, no, they didn't find any grease marks, did they?"

Snape's hand had already flown to his pocket, where he kept his wand, but Dumbledore cleared his throat again. "That is enough, Sirius. And you too, Severus."

Benji had watched the exchange without much interest. Sirius (and oftentimes James as well) and Severus had been bickering for the past two months, when Severus had joined the Order, and while their remarks had been amusing at first, he had grown rather weary of them.

"Well," cut in Fabian, looking haughtily around the room, "the traces of lorrane in the house are clearly pointing to one direction."

Gideon seemed to consider a moment interrupting his brother, but thought better of it and contented himself in gazing around.

"One suspect comes to mind," continued Fabian. "One we have been trying to find some more evidence against for the last five weeks."

"Rabastan Lestrange?" asked Benji.

Snape, in the back of the room, looked rather odd upon hearing this name, but not nearly as upset as Sirius, who jumped up and yelled, "Let me go get him! Him and the rest of the idiotic bunch!" He was, of course, alluding to his own family: Sirius's cousin, Bellatrix, had married Rabastan's brother, Rodolphus; after a very tough childhood, which ended with Sirius running away from home and moving in with James, it really didn't come as a surprise that all the loathing he felt towards Voldemort was nothing compared to the hate he reserved for his family.

It took a few moments to calm him down. Finally, Dumbledore shook his head. "I'd rather not send you, Sirius. You're too involved," he said.

"Big deal," huffed the handsome wizard.

Dumbledore looked around the room. "Is there really no one else?" he asked at no one in particular.

"I'll do it," said Benji, getting up. Who cared if it was dangerous? He'd been sitting in a room babbling too long in his opinion. It was time to get out there and start doing something.

"And me," said a small, resolute voice from the back. Benji turned, and, with much surprise, realised the voice belonged to Hestia. His immediate reaction was to tell her to stay: going into the wolf's nest to snoop around for evidence was pure suicide! But the determined look on her face told him it was no good to argue.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, nodding. He looked grimly at the two. "You know what to do. Good luck." He paused briefly. "And thank you."

Benji and Hestia looked at each other, nodded, and headed out of the building together.

"All right," said Benji quietly. "Here's the plan." The two were crouched behind a tall set of bushes, not far away from a huge mansion. "I put on my Invisibility Cloak, go near the house, check if the coast in clear, and report back. All clear?"

Hestia huffed. She hated being told what to do. And she hated to do nothing while others risked their lives. "And what am I supposed to do while you do all the work?"

"Keep guard," said the young man smoothly.

Hestia rolled her eyes. "And what if someone's already seen us, and once you start heading toward the house grabs you from behind and I can't warn you?"

"I'll punch and kick, and if that doesn't work and I'm caught, I promise I won't mention you were here, don't worry."

"Big deal," said Hestia. "Look, Benji, I really don't know how to make this any clearer to you: I want to do something useful!"

Benji shrugged. "Keeping guard _is_ useful."

"Oh really? Well, since it's so darn useful, why don't you do it and I go check the house?" asked Hestia sceptically.

"No way," answered Benji.

"And why not?"

Benji didn't seem to find an appropriate response: how could he possibly make her understand that this was too dangerous, that he didn't want her around at all? "The Invisibility Cloak is mine. It's probably too big for you, anyway," he muttered lamely.

Hestia smiled. "I can shrink it, you know."

Benji exhaled deeply. "Listen, Hestia, why do you always have to complicate things? What's the problem if I go and you keep guard?"

The young woman's gaze dropped to the ground. "I've been sitting all safe and sound for too long now, Benji." She paused for a moment, before saying, in a far more resolute tone, "My sister was killed, Benji! She's dead! And guess what I was doing while that happened? I was at Headquarters, doing absolutely _nothing_ to save her! I-" She faltered briefly. "I can't let something like that happen again. I couldn't live with myself if I don't do something _now_… if something happens…"

"Yeah well," said Benji forcefully, "_I_ couldn't live with myself if something happened to you!" Only after the words left his mouth did he fully realise what he'd just said. "I-I mean–"

But Hestia was smiling. "Exactly. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you and I couldn't do anything about it. So how's this? We both squeeze under your Invisibility Cloak and go check?"

"Hestia," he murmured, "I don't think–"

But he was cut off as she leaned in to kiss him.

"Good luck, Mr. Fenwick," she said, still smiling. She let out a deep breath. "And let's hope to make it through this."

He grinned. "How can you doubt that, Miss Jones? Why, don't you know you have a past Duelling Champion on your side?"

"How past?" she asked.

"Still in great shape, don't worry," he murmured. He was already leaning in for another good luck kiss, when they heard a noise behind them.

"Right," said Hestia, blushing slightly, "maybe this isn't exactly the best moment to–"

But this time it was Benji who cut her off with another swift kiss. Then he got up, pulled the cloak over his head and held out a hand to the young woman still crouched on the clear grass. "C'mon. We've got a mission to solve." He grinned. "But if we make it through alive, I want a reward," he finished, chuckling.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Fenwick. There'll be time for that later," answered Hestia as she got up.

And while neither of them was really sure there was going to be a 'later' for them to be together, it didn't matter right now: what had to come would come, and they would be ready for it when it did.

THE END

A/N: Reviews, anyone?


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